


Words of love

by MsUtterson



Category: Jekyll & Hyde - Wildhorn/Wildhorn & Bricusse & Cuden/Bricusse, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Comedy, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsUtterson/pseuds/MsUtterson
Summary: Gabriel John Utterson wants to confess his feelings to Henry Jekyll – if only words will co-operate.
Relationships: Henry Jekyll/Gabriel John Utterson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Words of love

**Author's Note:**

> In my mind, this story is based on the musical – hence "John" and not "Gabriel" – but I don't think there's anything major in here that contradicts the book canon either, if that's more your thing. Enjoy!

Gabriel John Utterson never did anything spontaneously.

Behind his back, people sometimes called him boring, but personally, John simply thought of himself as a rational, methodical person. Career-wise, he vastly preferred paperwork to any high-intensity courtroom battles, and outside work, he mostly stuck to his routines. In short, his ideal life included predictable outcomes, no shocks and no surprises.

So, when the understanding had dawned upon him that he could no longer keep on living without confessing his love to Henry Jekyll, it had only been the first step in a process that would take weeks – a painstaking process to plan the most appropriate confession possible.

Of course, John conceded, the smartest course of action would be to say nothing at all. He had no idea how Henry might respond, so it would be the safest choice to content himself with Henry's friendship and nothing more than that. It was just that lately, that had stopped feeling like an acceptable option. For a while now, there had been a tiny nagging suspicion in the back of John's mind, just loud enough to be quite impossible to ignore and getting louder by the day, that Henry might share at least some of his feelings. What if the same sort of visions ran through both of their minds when they sat by the fire having a late-night chat? What if friendship wasn't all his best friend desired, either? And, a terrifying thought struck him, what if something happened to Henry before John gave him the chance to find out about his feelings?

At first, John considered sending Henry a letter. After a careful examination of all sides of the issue, however, he decided that even the slightest risk of his writing ending up in the wrong hands – Poole’s, or Maisie the housemaid’s, or anyone else’s – outweighed the reward of being able to write down just the right words.

He would have to meet Henry to speak with him in person. And for that to succeed, he would have to sit down, imagine the situation the best he could, and plan his every word in advance.

"I wanted to ask you if I may share some of my thoughts with you tonight," imaginary John would begin, and imaginary Henry would nod. "If you wish to hear no more, just tell me, and I will keep quiet from then on," he would then continue, and imaginary Henry would listen, silently focusing on his every word.

"Henry, remember that day when we were starting our second year in university," imaginary John went on, but real John shook his head. No, he probably wouldn't – and besides, if all went well, there would be plenty of time for such recollections later on. Better to focus on the present.

"Henry, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you–" dear God, no, even imaginary John couldn't say something like that without blushing. Maybe something a little simpler.

"Henry, I love you," imaginary John tried again, and real John nodded. That would be a good, straightforward start, though it might require some explanation when moving forward. Imaginary John took a little pause and went on.

"I've been in love with you as long as I can remember. You are the most extraordinary, ambitious, intelligent, handsome, enticing–" real John put a stop to imaginary John's rhapsody. It was all true, of course… but maybe a little less would do.

"–intelligent person I've ever met. Though I know it's highly unusual, I've never met anyone else who made me feel the same, and I wish to stay by your side for the rest of my life." That felt better. Sometimes, when imaginary John said these words, he saw an expression of warmth and affection on imaginary Henry's face – but sometimes, his face instead took on an expression of confusion and unease. Better add some caveat so real Henry would not end up looking the same.

"I however understand if you cannot reciprocate my feelings. Holding you so close to my heart, I simply didn’t want to go on any longer without letting you know what you mean to me," imaginary John went on. A little melancholic, perhaps, but that would do. Now, only a finishing touch was needed.

"Please know that no matter what, I will always respect and love you."

There! Imaginary John had finished his speech. For a moment or two, imaginary Henry pondered everything he had just heard, and then… well, then the mental picture got rather foggy. Real John was certain that his secrets would always be safe with Henry, whatever they were, but beyond that, he had no idea how Henry might react.

Only one way to find out. It was time to put the plan into action.

* * *

Sitting in Henry's library across from his friend, John felt like his own insides just might crawl out of his body to strangle him. Could any declaration of love, indeed anything on earth at all, be worth feeling so horribly agitated?

Had his nerves not completely blinded his senses, John would've noticed a worried look on Henry's face. Despite his grand plans of using science to rid the world of this evil and that, Henry didn't often show empathy towards his friends – but this was so unusual of John, demanding to have a strictly private meeting and vehemently refusing to say what it was for, that Henry felt certain there was something wrong with his best friend. And now John was sitting on Henry's couch, face completely drained of all colour. What if he was deadly ill and had come to Henry to ask for a cure, and what if Henry couldn't come up with one?

"John, please, speak your mind. Why did you want to meet me tonight?"

No way out for John now but to say his part.

"I wanted to ask you if I may share some of my thoughts with you," he began, nervous enough to keel over, and Henry nodded. "If you wish–"

John trailed off. What was it he’d been planning to say next? Maybe it would be better to start over, so he could get the words flowing correctly.

"I wanted to ask, and, if you wish, I–" John lost his train of thought again. It felt like the words he had repeated to himself over and over again were slipping away from him.

"If you wish, tonight, may I–"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. John had a vague notion he had planned a full speech once, but he had no recollection of it anymore. Whatever had compelled him to attempt this in the first place, he briefly wondered, and why had he let the madness go this far, so far that forever holding his peace was no longer an option?

John started over one more time, swearing under his breath, so flustered he hardly knew which words were spoken only in his mind and which ones out loud, and the unwanted realisation of how handsome Henry looked tonight snaking its way into his consciousness… before he could put a stop to it, John's last attempt at speaking his mind stumbled its way out of his mouth.

_"I wanted to ask, may I fuck you?"_

Oh God. Oh fuck.

The silence that ensued was loud enough to break eardrums, but there was no way in hell or earth John was going to say another word now. Had he been looking, he would've found Henry's blank expression frustratingly hard to read – but seeing how he had buried his face in his hands with the firm intention of never, ever looking towards Henry's general direction again, he had no idea.

After an eternity and a half, Henry spoke.

"Well. I can certainly understand why you wanted to make sure no one else was around to hear that."

He rose from his chair and walked towards the library door, a door that separated his private rooms from the hallway. All the while, he talked quietly, almost to himself.

"Poole has a day off today, and Maisie is staying with her mother to take care of her for a while, but just to be absolutely certain…"

John heard a key turn in a lock.

"Though to be quite honest, knowing you, I'm just surprised that you didn't put the request down in writing and submit it two weeks in advance." Before John knew it, Henry was sitting next to him on the couch, so close their legs almost touched.

"But you meant that seriously, right?"

John managed a nod.

"Good. It's a bit of an unexpected proposition, but my answer is yes."

Raising his eyes to meet Henry's, John was greeted with a mischievous smile – and, suddenly, a hand on his thigh.

"So what are you waiting for?"

Though his outburst had hardly been the carefully constructed declaration of everlasting love he had planned… well, a thought flashed through John’s mind, maybe there were certain upsides to leading a spontaneous life after all.


End file.
